


Carry On

by fullmetalheart



Series: gods bleed too, you know? [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Team Bonding, Team as Family, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Thor (Marvel)-centric, and his eye back, and his whole fucking planet back, but im not tryna kill off half the universe like thanos dw, but y'know its ok, fluff with some angst sprinkled on top, he just needs a break, i fucking dare you bITCH, i like things with balance, idk why im cursing so much im just really emotional rn, infinity war?? who is she?? is that some type of sauce?, okay so maybe theres a bit more angst than that, or at least hes trying to be, so is brunnhilde, suck a dICK ODIN, sue me, tell me the revengers arent a family, the bestest of bros, they all love and support thor, we're all doing fine, why do i always ramble so much in the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalheart/pseuds/fullmetalheart
Summary: "... But Odin’s throne had been one of lies, and the crown resting upon Thor’s head felt like thorns digging into his skull."Thor learns that ruling becomes a lot less painful through the comfort of having people who care about him.





	Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know how this happened.  
> One minute I was sitting there ranting about how I have to literally sell my soul to find a decent Thor-centric fanfiction with my friend and the next thing I know I'm sitting there with a new Word document open aggressively typing away.  
> Whoops?  
> People tend to forget that Thor is just as much of a dimensional character as Loki is and deserves just as much attention that doesn't involve him being a complete moron. Who loves Pop-Tarts.  
> He's smart, he struggles, and he has a lot of weight on his shoulders that's focused less on himself and more on his unequivocally good way of caring about people.  
> I'm just as guilty as the rest of them when it comes to getting caught up in writing Loki's endlessly layered personality, but that doesn't mean Thor should get swept under the rug like a side character to Loki's story like people tend to do.  
> So this is me trying to show my favorite MCU character a bit of appreciation, and just maybe I will inspire you to do the same.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This fic is gen, no slash will be found here. However, you can interpret it however you want I guess. Except for Thor and Loki, please don't twist or confuse the way I write them that way. In my household we're severely uncomfortable with the idea of shipping them. I do headcanon Thor to be the type who is very reliant on physical affection. So basically what I'm trying to say is cuddles happen. 
> 
> Enjoy ;)

_If you're lost and alone_ _  
_

_Or you're sinking like a stone,  
_

_Carry on._

\- Carry On, Fun.

 

Thor grew up with delusions of grandeur. He lived in a world where cruelty was hidden behind beauty and truth was hidden behind a curtain of falsified reality. He grew up believing he was destined to be a gilded king, loved by his people and feared by his enemies. These delusions twisted him, taking his warmth and kindness and turning them into arrogance and a deadly lust for battle. Thor only learned of humility because he was forced to, and only found the better parts of himself again because of a lesson that came far too late. This was not through any fault of his own. His old flaws were the direct result of how he was raised.

 _“Odin was not a good father_.”

The words came from Loki, late at night during one of their first days on the _Statesman_. At first Thor had recoiled from the thought, outraged that Loki would dare to utter such a statement so soon after Odin’s death. Loki had weathered Thor’s anger calmly.

_“I finally start telling the truth and you decide to reject it.”_

Now as Thor sat alone in his room, empty bottles of liquor scattered about, he realized belatedly that Loki had been right. Odin had over a millennium to prepare Thor to be a king. As the Crown Prince, Thor had spent his entire life being readied for the throne. He should have fit into the role with ease, relying on his father’s shared wisdom and knowledge to bear the burden of rule.

But Odin’s throne had been one of lies, and the crown resting upon Thor’s head felt like thorns digging into his skull.

Thor was a warrior, he always had been. His natural talent for battle rapidly earned him respect from his fellow Asgardians. He was a war general, an attack dog, and a protector. That was what he was meant to be.

Loki was the diplomat, built for negotiation and tactics. He was the other half of a king that Thor lacked, and Odin hadn’t even noticed. The more Thor thought about it, the more he realized that Loki’s Jotunn ancestry must had blinded Odin.

Thor and Loki were two halves of a whole. Together they would have made an ideal king. Instead, Odin prioritized the son who had Aesir blood flowing through his veins. Thor realized this now, papers spread across the desk he was sitting at, records of supplies and people that resided on this ship that made his head ache while he was sober and didn’t make sense while he was drunk.

One part of him wanted to ask Loki for help, while another part of him chided himself for needing assistance on something so simple.

_I should have stopped drinking four bottles ago._

Thor unscrewed another bottle before draining half of it in a massive gulp. He thought about how he must have resembled the Valkyrie at the moment, with her constant drinking and swaying steps. It made his lips quirk upward in a faint imitation of a smile.  A knock on his door made Thor look up from the numbers that had begun to blur in front of his eyes.

“Who is it?” Thor asked. He realized too late that his voice was slurred, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care in his current state of mind.

“It’s Loki,” Loki’s voice replied. He sounded exasperated. “Are you _drinking_ , Thor?”

“Mmm, maybe,” Thor told him. “The numbers don’t make any sense, Loki.”

“Of course they don’t, you’re _drunk_ you fool. I’m coming in.”

“No, don’t come in. Leave me alone.”

Loki walked in.

“Lokiiiii,” Thor whined. Loki scoffed, taking in Thor in all his drunken glory.

“Since when have _you_ had any regard for my wishes for solitude,” Loki quipped. He took in all the empty bottles lying around and raised an eyebrow, almost impressed. “How many drinks have you had anyway?”

“I lost count at six,” Thor admitted.

“Joy,” Loki muttered before flinging himself on Thor’s bed.

“What’re you doin’?” Thor slurred, swaying in his seat.

“Making myself comfortable. Now share,” said Loki, reaching for the half empty bottle Thor was holding. Thor obliged, passing it to Loki’s outstretched hand. Loki took a swig before handing it Thor, who took a gulp of his own then passed it to Loki. They continued in this manner without speaking until the bottle was empty. Loki stopped him when Thor reached for another bottle.

“That would not be a wise choice, Brother. You’re already going to regret what you’ve had in the morning.”

Thor grunted in reply before standing up. He wobbled for a moment before gaining some semblance of balance and staggered to his bed. He flopped onto the mattress, laying directly across Loki who was already taking up most of the space on his own. Loki squawked in indignation, squirming beneath his brother.

“Seriously Thor?!”

“Mmm.”

“You’re heavy!”

“Yeah I know.”

“So, get off!”

“Hmm.”

“I can’t breathe!”

“That’s nice.”

Loki growled, jabbing Thor in the ribs. He didn’t even twitch.

“I will stab you,” he snapped, patience wearing thin.

“Do it tomorrow,” Thor mumbled from where his face was pressed into a pillow.

Loki sighed.

“Could you at least move into a more comfortable position?”

Thor grumbled before shifting some of his weight off Loki, who wriggled until his head was resting on one of the pillows. They ended up in an odd position on top of the blankets. Thor was on his right side and curled into Loki’s left. His face was buried into brother’s shoulder, with an arm thrown across Loki’s chest. Thor’s legs were wrapped around Loki’s, clinging to him, and no matter how much Loki squirmed he could not dislodge them. Loki laid flat on his back, stiff as a board and staring up at the ceiling. He tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t been this close to Thor for a reason other than fighting each other or dying in _years_.

“I forgot that you get oddly clingy when you’re inebriated,” said Loki.

The only thing he got in reply was a loud snore.

Loki spent at least an hour exploring vivid daydreams of repeatedly stabbing his brother in multiple places before he finally fell asleep.

 

Thor awoke to a throbbing migraine and his brother trying to extract himself from the tangle of limbs they had somehow been reduced to during the night. He groaned and rolled over, squashing his face into a pillow and grabbing another to block out any noise.

“I told you that you would regret drinking that much,” said Loki snidely. Thor felt a rather strong impulse to punch him in the jaw. He did not remember hearing anything along those lines, but seeing as most of his memories from the previous night were a blur he simply retaliated with an eloquent “Shut up, Loki.”

Loki snickered. Thor threw one of his pillows at him. He immediately regretted this decision when the movement sent a fresh wave of agony behind his eyes. Well, his single eye and the empty socket that used to house the other.

“This is it, Brother. This is how I meet my end.”

Loki rolled his eyes and said, “Get over it. And people call _me_ the dramatic one.”

“It runs in the family then,” mumbled Thor, voice muffled by the pillow his face was still shoved into.

“How do you even breathe like that?” Loki asked incredulously.

Thor grunted, burying his face deeper into the pillow. “I manage.”

Loki patted his shoulder somewhat mockingly before saying, “Well come on then, time to get up. You have kingly duties to attend to.”

“Ugh don’t remind me,” said Thor with a groan. He shifted further into the mattress, momentarily wishing that he could sink into it and disappear, so he did not have to address his responsibilities. He loved the people of Asgard and would sacrifice anything for them, but he was just so _tired_ that finding the motivation to deal with petty problems such as sleeping arrangements was nearly impossible.

He didn’t even want to start _thinking_ about the more serious ones.

Loki was silent for a moment.

“What? What are you thinking?” Thor asked.

Loki laughed softly, “It is in some ways ironic to hear you complaining about the duties of a king when it was all you ever wanted for centuries.”

“Loki, you know I do not wish for the burden of the crown now. I would never abandon Asgard, but I haven’t wanted it for years,” Thor informed him. Loki did not reply, and when Thor looked up his brother was gone.

 

Thor wondered, briefly, if he was having a panic attack.

They were not a stranger to him. His brother had suffered from terrible anxiety when they were younger, and Thor had witnessed them before. He would sit down next to Loki and try to coax him back to reality. Thor had gotten better at it with time, but at some point, Loki had stopped suffering from them.

Or maybe he had just gotten better at hiding them from him.

Thor never had problems with anxiety. If people could have ownership of a negative emotion, rage would be his. Even now he seemed to default to it. A burning anger that clawed its way up his throat to choke out common sense was something he knew how to handle. Thor was also well acquainted with grief, that sense of loss so profound that it left a gaping hole in a person’s very being. He understood fear with reason, the sense of discomposure that came in response to the threat of death in battle.

But right now, Thor seemed terrified of absolutely nothing, and he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

 _Coward_ , a voice hissed in the back of his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and told it to shut up, that if he was a coward now then Loki had always been a coward, and he knew that wasn’t true.

 _Is it not?_ the voice asked him. _He died twice to escape the consequences of his actions. All he ever does is run._

Thor gritted his teeth and ignored it.

“Thor?” a voiced called out hesitantly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Thor registered it to be Bruce. A sense of dread coiled in his stomach, joining the unreasonable fear that buzzed beneath his skin. He did not want anyone to see him this way. Thor did not reply.

Thor heard footsteps as Bruce wandered further into the room. Thor prayed he would not check the bathroom. His prayers went unanswered.

Bruce paused at the threshold, eyes widening as he caught sight of Thor.

 _I’m a mess, aren’t I?_ he thought bitterly.

“Hey Thor- uh, I’m not great at this. Are you alright?” Bruce asked tentatively.

Thor could lie, but he was not his brother, and something compelled him to speak honestly.

He looked up, a crooked smile twisting his lips upward as he said, “I don’t quite know the answer to that question.”

Thor had started shaking, he realized with a jolt, and he dropped his head between his knees to focus on getting air into his lungs. Bruce moved to stand in front of him before crouching down. He placed a light hand gently on Thor’s shoulder. He started at the contact, but it wasn’t quite a flinch.

“Thor,” said Bruce in a startlingly kind tone. Thor looked up again, his chest stuttering in and out as he struggled to breathe. “Can I grab your hand?”

Thor could not imagine why he would need to, but he trusted Bruce, so he nodded. Bruce took his hand and placed it firmly against his chest.

“Can you try to breathe with me?” he asked. “Just match my breaths.”

Bruce inhaled and exhaled slowly, methodically, and Thor struggled to match his own desperate, staccato gasps to the chest he felt rising and falling beneath his palm. Thor could feel Bruce’s heart beating in calm and steadying pumps beneath his fingertips. The sensation grounded him, and he could feel his breathing even out.

“That’s it Thor. You’ve got it.” Bruce’s voice was so gentle, and Thor inhaled a sharp, shuddering breath in response. His eyes stung, and suddenly he felt the absurd urge to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped out, and Bruce shook his head.

“No, it’s fine,” Bruce told him. “It’s not like it’s a rare thing for people with lives like ours.”

Thor let out a shaky laugh.

“You good now?” Bruce asked, and when Thor nodded he settled against the wall beside him. When Thor inched closer so that their shoulders were touching he didn’t react. Thor had never felt so immensely grateful for his friend until that moment.

“Do you mind me asking what set you off?” Bruce asked. Thor paused, tipping his head to the side in thought.

“I’m not entirely sure. I believe I just got overwhelmed.”

Bruce hummed.

“It has to be a lot of weight on your shoulders to be responsible for everyone here.”

Thor sighed, before turning to him with a sad smile on his face.

“I will not lie and say that it is not a burden. However, it is my duty and my people need me.” Thor looked away before tipping his head backward to stare up at the ceiling. He continued softly, “What else can I do then, when so many need me, other than carry on?”

Bruce stared at him, suddenly understanding what it means to be _worthy_. He found that he didn’t envy the tired, grieving king. Not anymore, anyway.

 

“Spar with me,” said the Valkyrie one day after a few (eight) long hours of staring at reports and making absolutely no headway. Thor looked up at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Uh, what?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and flicked him on the nose.

“You have a brain in between those ears, right? Anyone can see that you’re practically buzzing with pent-up restlessness. Spar with me, you oaf,” she said flippantly, before shoving all the papers scatted across his bed and desk into a drawer. He stared at her, blinking in surprise, before he let a teasing smile curl his lips upward.

“You’re spending too much time with Loki; your insults are starting to sound like his.”

She shot him a glare and Thor laughed. She flipped him off.

“If you’re not careful I’ll rescind my offer.”

Thor held up his hands in mock surrender, “I will be careful from this moment onward.”

She snorted and made her way to the door leading outside. “Well are you coming or not?”

Curiosity more than anything else urged him to follow at her heels. Thor couldn’t resist to learn what it would be like to spar with a Valkyrie.

She led him to what appeared to be a makeshift training area. Chairs and tables were pushed to the walls along the perimeter of the room to clear a space in the center. There was a rack of wooden practice swords and a row of training dummies. A couple of mats were laid out on the floor, and the Valkyrie stepped onto them while beckoning him forward.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” Thor admitted, and she shot him a grin.

“Then let’s whip you into shape,” she said, and then she _moved_.

Sparring with her felt almost like sparring with Loki. They were both smaller, in terms of body mass, and much faster than Thor. The major difference between the two was blatantly obvious in how they made use of their strength. Loki conserved his, striking in a calm calculated manner. The Valkyrie, however, was not shy about showing that in terms of brute force she was almost a match for Thor.

Thor realized that he was most likely going to lose. The thought would have bothered him nearly a decade ago, but now he found he was simply grateful for the exercise. He felt himself getting lost in the movement. He took bruising blows and dealt his own. Sweat dripped down his neck and back. Thor started to grin.

The whirled around each other in a dance, picking up the pace as the intensity of their mock battle increased. Fists flew in a deadly mimicry of choreography and suddenly Thor found himself flat on his back.

He let out a startled laugh once he regained the air that had been knocked out of him to do so. The Valkyrie offered him a hand in assistance. He grabbed it and yanked her down onto the mat with him. She let out an undignified shriek, a sound that Thor never even imagined could come from her, and landed on top of him in a mass of flailing limbs. This sent Thor into a fit of hysterical laughter while she struggled to extract herself from the tangled mess they had become. Thor’s giggles cut off in a yelp as he felt the familiar pain of a knife sliding between his ribs. He pushed her off him in mock offense.

“You seriously _have_ been spending too much time with Loki,” Thor remarked. He pulled out the small dagger with a grimace and tossed it aside.

“You deserved it,” she said shortly. Thor snorted.

They lay there on the mats in silence for a couple of minutes, chests heaving as they regained their lost breath. Thor felt the sweat along his hairline drying and he wrinkled his nose. He was going to need a shower after this.

Thor broke the silence first by saying, “Thank you, Valkyrie.”

She inhaled sharply. Thor could feel her hesitation, but eventually she said, “My name is Brunnhilde.”

Thor sat up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. He stared at her for a moment and she sighed.

“Can you please stop gaping? If we’re going to be stuck with each other for a while you might as well know it.”

Thor started to grin.

“Oh, get that look off your face it’s gross.”

“Thank you, Brunnhilde,” said Thor, his voice achingly warm with affection, “for the spar and for introducing yourself.”

Brunnhilde felt her face flush.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” she mumbled.

“Still,” said Thor happily, “you put me in a better mood. I owe you thanks.”

“Yeah whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand. Brunnhilde felt a warmth beginning to bloom in her chest as the respect she had held for Thor turned into something more intimate. She realized then, that she liked Thor as more than just her king, but also as her friend.

 

Loki lay sprawled out at the foot of Thor’s bed, reading a book, while Thor sat propped up against the headboard. He paged through a couple of reports before he placed them on the bedside table and pinched the bridge of his nose. A jolt of phantom pain stabbed through his empty eye socket.

 _Fantastic_.

The sound of the door to his room opening made him look up.

“Am I interrupting something?” asked Brunnhilde.

Loki said “Yes,” at the same time Thor said “No.”

“Damn it, Thor,” Loki said in faux exasperation, “we could have made her go away.”

“You’re hilarious,” she said drily.

“Be nice, Brother,” Thor chided. Loki scoffed.

“Since when has being nice worked out for anyone?”

“It works out for me all the time,” Thor informed him.

Brunnhilde grinned, “Learn from your big brother, Lackey.”

“It’s Loki- OOF,” the remainder of Loki’s sentence got cut off as Brunnhilde threw herself on top of him.

Thor barked out a laugh as Loki squirmed, once again a victim of being crushed underneath someone.

“Why do all the Aesir in my life feel the need to use me as a pillow?” Loki wheezed from underneath Brunnhilde.

“I wanted this spot,” she informed him. Loki scowled.

“There is plenty of space right next to where Thor is sitting.”

“Yeah but I wanted _this_ spot.”

“No, what you wanted to be is obnoxious.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Thor watched them banter with a grin. Those two had gone from genuinely hating each other to jokingly hating each other, though both would vehemently deny any affection for the other if asked. A knock on the door drew his attention away from the pair.

“What is even happening in here?” Bruce asked, his eyebrows raised and lips twitching upward with amusement.

“Team bonding,” Brunnhilde informed him.

“Is it really team bonding when one of us can’t breathe?” Loki asked, still pinned beneath her weight.

“Yes,” said Thor. Loki groaned and went back to attempting to shove the Valkyrie off, but Brunnhilde didn’t budge.

“I thought we disbanded the Revengers,” said Bruce.

“Do I even count as part of the team?” Loki asked.

“No,” said Bruce and Brunnhilde at the same time that Thor said “Yes.”

“Ouch, I’m hurt. Brother, you truly are the only person remaining in the universe who cares for me.”

Thor snickered while Brunnhilde rolled her eyes.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“ _I’m_ dramatic? You should’ve seen Thor the other morning waking up with a hangover.”

“Join us,” said Thor pleasantly to Bruce, ignoring the other two and patting the empty mattress beside him for emphasis. Bruce snorted but indulged him, clambering onto the bed to sit next to Thor. Out of curiosity he picked up the book Loki was reading and nearly choked in surprise when he read the title.

“Is that seriously _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_?” he asked incredulously.

“Ah yes,” said Loki from beneath Brunnhilde, “what of it?”

“How do you even have that?” Bruce asked in disbelief.

“Oh well, I picked up the whole series last time I was in Midgard helping Thor look for our father-”

“When did you even find the time to do that?” asked Thor, torn between amusement and exasperation.

“- and I’m rather attached to the story. The representation of magic is entirely inaccurate of course but the characters and plotline are fantastic.”

Bruce gaped at him for a second, before hesitantly asking, “Who’s your favorite character?”

The two suddenly were engaged in a seemingly riveting discussion about the book series that the other two couldn’t follow. Brunnhilde seemed content to lay sprawled out on top of Loki. Thor tipped his had back and closed his eyes, letting their voices wash over him. About twenty minutes later he dozed off, his head dropping to rest on Bruce’s. For the rest of the conversation, Bruce remained as still as possible as to not wake him. And when Thor awoke in the middle of the night to the feeling of three bodies pressing against him and a warm feeling of content safety lulling him back to sleep, he realized that while the crown that rested on his head was still heavy, the pain that had come with it was almost entirely gone.

What else could he do then, other than carry on? If not for his people, then maybe for this ragtag group of individuals he had somehow started to consider family.


End file.
